


ocean eyes

by montygreenbean (bottomoftheocean)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 4+1, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, also hannah green makes a cameo, bellamy does his best, clarke cries a lot, four plus one things, long term pining, lots of fluff especially at the end, minor mention of blood (but only a little bit i promise!!), mother hen Bellamy, time lapses between scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottomoftheocean/pseuds/montygreenbean
Summary: Bellamy took care of Octavia most of his life. With Octavia came her best friend, Clarke, no matter what.Somehow, Bellamy kept finding himself in situations where Clarke started crying and he didn't really know exactly what to do to help. But he had to do something, because Clarke never deserved to cry for any reason.or, four times where Clarke inadvertently cries in front of Bellamy, and one time she doesn't.





	ocean eyes

**Author's Note:**

> hey friends! here's another fic -- my first crack at writing bellarke!  
> i've been working on this for a few weeks, because to be entirely honest i haven't written a f/m ship... ever in my life, and it was kind of a struggle to change into that mindset.
> 
> however, i figured with the premiere of season 5 of the 100, it would be the perfect time to try, so here we are!  
> and as always, these characters don’t belong to me! they belong to the creators of the 100, the cw and kass morgan.
> 
> i really really hope you enjoy this! i put a lot of work into it and i'm proud of how it turned out :)

  1. _August 2006, the Blakes’ front yard_



Bellamy Blake sat on the front steps of his house, watching as his younger sister Octavia and her best friend Clarke as they stacked rocks and chunks of loose asphalt among leaves and pinecones and made “fairy houses.” It was one of their favorite pastimes, for one reason or another, but Bellamy couldn’t understand why. At thirteen, he thought himself much more mature than the two eight year old girls and couldn’t ever be seen playing in the yard with them like this, no matter how much they begged him. So he stayed on the steps, watching from afar to make sure neither of the girls hurt herself (because God knows his mother wouldn’t do anything to help if one of them did).

They built several little stacks across the grass, and every time they finished one, Octavia would squeal with excitement and try to get him to come and see. Bellamy would always say the same thing, “I’m sure it’s beautiful, O, why don’t you guys make another?” and she would always drag Clarke off to the next empty patch of grass and they would get back to work. 

It was when he stopped paying attention to them that Clarke let out a blood-curdling scream and Octavia came running for him. He was up from his perch and across the yard in seconds, terrified of what could possibly have happened. 

When he reached her, Clarke sat in the grass with a quivering lip and fat tears sliding down her face. Her right shin had scrapes all the way down it and a particularly large chunk of asphalt had her stuck in her spot. Bellamy quickly rolled it off her, talking quietly and making sure she was okay. She nodded, but another sob escaped her in the process.

Without even thinking, really, Bellamy scooped the younger girl off the ground and carried her gingerly into the house. He had Octavia get a wet rag from the kitchen while he searched the cabinets for any sort of bandage he could find. Blood trickled down Clarke’s leg and he really didn’t want that to keep happening if he could help it -- it made him a bit queasy and light-headed. She sat on the edge of the bathtub, still crying quietly, as he hunted around.

“What are you looking for?” she asked him through her sniffles.

“Bandages,” he answered, trying to look anywhere but at her leg. His hands were shaking from the thought of the blood and he was afraid of what would happen if he looked at it again. “I thought we had some in here, but I can’t find any.”

“It’s okay, Bellamy, it doesn’t really hurt that much anymore,” Clarke said, but Bellamy didn’t particularly believe her due to the tears still dripping off her chin.

Octavia returned then with the rag, and handed it to her brother before sitting beside her friend on the edge of the bathtub. She grabbed the other girl’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly as Bellamy knelt down in front of her.

It was just a little bit of blood, he could  _ handle _ it… probably. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, preparing himself. He looked up at Clarke, who stared back down at him with wide eyes, seemingly waiting for him to just get it over with.

When he shifted his gaze down to her bloodied leg, Bellamy froze. His head went fuzzy and he could feel his stomach roiling, but he could do nothing but stare at the injury.

“Bell, are you okay?” Octavia asked, waving a hand in front of his face. He didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. After a few moments of looking at him quizzically, she reached out and plucked the rag from his unmoving hand, wiping Clarke’s leg herself. The blonde whined, more tears forming in her eyes at the stinging sensation. Once her leg was clean and free of asphalt, Clarke poked at Bellamy’s knee with her other foot, trying to get him to react to anything at all.

The entire time, Bellamy had been trying to breathe, but it didn’t come easily until he could no longer see dripping blood. He crumpled to the floor, blinking, still a bit fuzzy in the head. Both eight year olds stared at him from above. He felt himself blush, and ducked his head in embarrassment. It was just a scrape, how would he have reacted to something worse?

“I’m sorry, Clarke,” he managed to say.

“It’s okay, Bellamy. I’m fine now, Octavia helped me. You saw.” She stood from her perch on the tub and tried to coax him to his feet, Octavia following closely behind. He still felt woozy, and continued to blush harder at the fact that an  _ eight year old girl _ was curled into his side, helping him walk.

Clarke made him sit at the table and got him a glass of water and a small bag of crackers from the cupboard. “Here, you tried to help me, it’s my turn,” she said.

Bellamy could not believe that his day had panned out this way.

 

 

  1. _April 2010, Clarke’s twelfth birthday party_



Bellamy had listened to Octavia raving about how fun Clarke’s party was going to be for  _ weeks _ . She was almost more excited than Clarke herself, though the blonde girl was planning quite an extravagant party with the help of her mother.

“Bell, you’ve  _ gotta _ come with me! Clarke’ll be so happy if you’re there, I swear it!” Octavia said to him on the day of the party, for what must have been the fifteenth time.

“O, I’m not sure. It’s senior year and you know I have a bunch of homework on weekends.” Bellamy thought that maybe if he repeated it enough, his sister would understand that a seventeen year old really had no interest in attending a twelve year old’s birthday party.

Octavia pouted. “Bellamy. It’s in two hours! I saw you going through your assignments this morning and you don’t have  _ anything  _ that you have to do today.”

He sighed. “I should’ve known you’d be watching my every move today.”

The girl preened, knowing she was one step away from winning her battle. “You don’t even have to buy her anything, I already did it for you. It’s the perfect gift, I promise she’ll love it!”

“O, where did you get the money to buy Clarke two presents?”

“I’ve been saving some.” She shrugged. “Besides, it wasn’t like it was that expensive anyway.”

Bellamy stared at her for a long moment, and she did nothing but meet his eyes, blinking expectantly and waiting for him to give in. “Fine. I’ll go to Clarke’s party.” Octavia latched her arms around his middle, hugging him and squealing. “But,” he added, “you won’t ask me to do anything else for you for the rest of this month.”

“Not a thing,” she agreed, letting go of him to draw an ‘X’ over her heart.

 

That’s how Bellamy found himself sitting in a circle of pre-pubescent boys and girls, towering at least a foot above every one of them with a bright green party hat balanced atop his dark hair. Clarke sat in the center, surrounded by an assortment of crumpled wrapping paper. She waited as her mother went to retrieve the next gift. When Mrs. Griffin handed her the box, wrapped in old newspaper, her face lit up in sheer joy. “Bellamy!” she cried. “You didn’t have to get me anything!”

He lied smoothly, not wanting the rest of the kids (or Clarke’s mother, especially Clarke’s mother) to know he  _ hadn’t _ , in fact, gotten her anything. “It’s nothing, Princess. It’s your birthday, you deserve it.” Octavia nudged his leg with her foot, encouraging him. He had no idea what was in the box Clarke was about to open, but Octavia seemed excited about it, which worried him.

She peeled the paper off the box and carefully wedged her thumb under the lid to pop it open. When she moved the tissue paper to see what was inside, her face collapsed in shock and tears sprang to her eyes. She looked to Bellamy in disbelief. “You… really did this for me?”

He peeked into the box. Inside was a shadowbox frame, filled with pictures of Clarke and her father, the watch she would try to wear and frequently left behind at their home, and even the patch off her dad’s old work jacket. 

Bellamy was speechless. Octavia had really outdone herself, and there was no way he’d be able to cover this up. He simply stared back at Clarke, whose tears now began to drip down her cheeks.

“I helped a little, but yeah. It was Bellamy’s idea,” Octavia smiled, poking his leg with her toes yet again.

“I thought I’d lost Dad’s watch forever,” Clarke admitted, sniffling. “But you just… held onto it this whole time, waiting to do something… something special? For me?”

Bellamy swallowed thickly, nodding and trying to find words,  _ any  _ words, that would not make it obvious he hadn’t known this was what he was gifting her. “Like I said, Princess,” he settled on, “you deserve it.”

Next thing he knew, he had a face full of blonde hair and an armful of Clarke. She had launched herself across the circle to hug him, her sniffles now turning to hiccups. “Bellamy, I will  _ never  _ forget this. This is the best thing anyone has ever given me. I mean it.”

He spoke lowly in her ear, so no one could hear but her. “I mean it too. Clarke, you deserve the world.” That, at least, he could say truthfully. He may not deserve much for taking this credit, but she definitely deserved the gift.

Tears came back to Clarke’s eyes several times over the remainder of the party, each time she thought of the beautiful gift or even so much as looked at Bellamy. He hated that he couldn’t tell her it was Octavia’s idea, but he  _ didn’t  _ hate the way she looked at him like he hung the stars. It made him feel warm inside, almost proud -- which he knew was stupid, seeing as it wasn’t  _ him  _ who made her feel that way, but he did anyway.

He’d have to remember to thank Octavia when they got home.

 

 

  1. _February 2014, a clearing in the woods behind the Griffin-Kane house_



Clarke had practically dragged Bellamy and Octavia into the woods, both unknowing as to where they were going and unwilling to go there. But she insisted, pulling them through snow and around broken branches until they reached a clearing.

“We’re here,” Clarke announced, slowing to a stop.

“Where is here, exactly?” Bellamy questioned.

Clarke giggled, though Bellamy thought the sound strange coming from someone as stoic as Clarke had been lately. “I found this place awhile ago, with…” she trailed off, looking dejected, but only for a moment. “Um, I just remembered it the other day. It’s so pretty, isn’t it?”

Bellamy had to agree. The clearing had previously been untouched even by animals, shown by the smooth blanket of snow across it. He decided not to ask about her unfinished sentence, and instead said, “It’s like nothing even knows it’s here. There are no deer tracks or anything.”

Octavia had yet to speak, looking around in awe with a little bit of mischief in her eyes. But now she said, “Well, that means I won’t spook any deer if I do this,” and launched a snowball at her brother’s head.

“Oh, you’re going to play it like that? I see how it is, O.” Before she could stand from where she was making another snowball, Bellamy had aimed a much larger one at her, showering snow all over her face and back.

The Blake siblings threw snow back and forth, unaware that Clarke was watching with a somewhat wistful expression on her face. Their laughing and play-fighting had her missing the last time she had been here, but neither was aware of the situation.

At least, not until Octavia hit Bellamy’s throwing arm with a snowball at the exact time he released one, causing it to fly off course and land squarely in Clarke’s face. Octavia started to laugh at his poor aim until she realized that Clarke was not going to retaliate and that instead she had begun to tear up.

Bellamy ran to her instantly. He apologized countless times, holding her shoulders securely in his grip and trying to make sure he hadn’t hurt her. But she wasn’t answering with words, simply shaking her head quickly and trying to suppress her hiccupping breaths.

“Clarke, are you okay?” he asked, starting to panic. “Dammit, if you’re not okay and it’s my fault, I’m not going to forgive myself. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

“No, no no no, Bellamy, I’m fine, you didn’t-- I’m not--” She paused, trying to collect her thoughts. “This isn’t because you hit me with a snowball, Bell.”

“Then please, tell me what’s wrong, Clarke.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders but did not release eye contact.

Octavia had appeared at Clarke’s side, and she rubbed circles into her best friend’s back, trying to help her calm down. “It’s okay, Clarke, you know you can tell us anything,” she said.

“It’s just that--” She stopped, sniffling. “It’s just that the last time I was here, I was with…” She couldn’t quite finish the sentence before breaking off into sobs, but Bellamy still heard the name.  _ Finn. _ He’d not known anything had gone awry with their relationship, but clearly it had or she wouldn’t be so upset.

“Finn? What about him?” he asked.

Clarke couldn’t answer for herself, too overcome by her crying, so Octavia spoke up. “The asshole had another girlfriend the whole time and thought it would be fun to keep her secret. And we wondered why he wouldn’t associate with her at school.”

Bellamy was stunned. “When did this happen? And why did no one tell me?”

“Three days ago. And I didn’t think you would care,” Octavia said flippantly.

Clarke looked up, sobs quieting back to hiccups. “Do you care, Bellamy?” she said, practically a whisper. But it sounded so loud here in this quiet clearing.

“Of course I care, Clarke. Why wouldn’t I care? You and O are all I have.” He meant to be comforting, but the words came out gruffly. He was angry at Finn for hurting her.  He thought no one should be allowed to hurt Clarke. No one should be allowed to hurt his Princess.

Her tears left tracks down her pale cheeks, and Bellamy had to resist the urge to wipe them away. Her lip continued to quiver as she said, “I’m your kid sister’s friend, I wouldn’t expect you to care so much.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy said again, effectively putting a damper on his anger at Finn Collins for making her feel this way. “I’ll always care.”

Clarke looked up at him, blue eyes swimming in tears but still somehow shining, and when she saw his small, genuine smile, wound her arms tightly around him. His hand went to her head, cradling her against him, and for a moment it was like Octavia wasn’t there.

In that moment, he knew he would truly do anything to see Clarke Griffin smile.

 

 

  1. _July 2016, the Griffin-Kanes’ living room_



Bellamy was sprawled across the couch in Clarke’s house, clad in grey sweat shorts and a white T-shirt and reading  _ The Grapes of Wrath  _ for what must have been the fourth or fifth time. Octavia was away for most of that summer -- one of her teachers had recommended her for a junior counselor position at a summer camp, and she had jumped at the opportunity to earn a few extra dollars going into her first year of college -- and he had taken to spending days at Clarke’s house to avoid being alone in his own.

The blonde sat curled in the recliner near his head, scrolling mindlessly through social media. Neither had spoken for hours, but it was a companionable silence, the kind he found he could only truly get with Clarke. 

Every so often, he would take a break from reading to steal a glance at the blonde. Her hair rested in two braids and she wore a floral dress that Bellamy thought brought out the blue in her eyes immaculately. It hadn’t been very long since he had realized that his feelings towards Clarke had morphed from platonic to entirely the opposite of platonic, but since he had come to that realization, the feelings had plowed into him like a bus. Suddenly Clarke was all he could think about, and these furtive looks at her as she focused on her phone screen were only a minor manifestation of those feelings. 

Even within these past few months, he had quickly realized that there wasn’t really a way out.

 

Bellamy had gotten nearly halfway through his book when his ears alerted him to Clarke letting out a single sniffle above him. He looked away from the pages and peered over his book so he could see her as she tried to discreetly wipe a tear from her eye before it fell.

He immediately closed the book. Clarke’s happiness was more important than any classic novel could ever be. He spoke her name carefully, knowing she had been trying to hide her tears from him.

“It’s fine, Bellamy, go back to your book,” she said, making to get up from her seat.

He reached for her, and the gentle touch of his finger pads on her forearm stilled her movement. She instead looked blankly at him, the tears in her eyes reflected only in the heavy way she swallowed. “No, Clarke, what is it?” he asked her.

Clarke looked genuinely confused for a moment, as though even after more than ten years of Bellamy being in her life, she still didn’t quite register how much he cared for her. But then she cast a glimpse back down at her phone and tears welled up once more.

“What did you see, Princess?” Bellamy coaxed, needing her to open up to him. Octavia wasn’t here to help out this time, so he was on his own.

“It’s nothing, really. Actually it’s kind of stupid, so never mind, I’m sure I’ll come out of this soon. Just ignore me, I--”

“Clarke. I’m not going to ignore you while you're upset. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

She unlocked her phone and handed it to him silently. He took a look at the screen, only to be greeted by an image of all three of Clarke’s exes -- two of whom were now dating one another -- all smiles at the local beach.  _ thanks to the random stranger who took this picture for us!  _ the caption proclaimed. “It’s stupid,” Clarke said again.

Bellamy handed her back her phone and met her eyes with his own. A single tear escaped from one eye and rolled down her cheek. This time, he did not resist the urge to wipe it away. “Your feelings aren’t stupid, Clarke. Nothing about you is stupid.”

She looked defeated, as though she was tired of crying about the people in that picture but still for some reason continued to feel the need. “I just… I guess I miss it,” she settled on saying.

“Miss what?” Bellamy asked.

“Being with someone, being happy. I don’t miss them,  _ especially  _ not Finn, but… I don’t know. Seeing all of them happy and spending time with each other makes me wish that I could have something like that again, you know?” More tears began to drip down her face. Bellamy caught them all before they fell too far.

“I do know. Maybe those three didn’t always treat you the best, but you loved them, yeah? That doesn’t just go away.”

Clarke nodded. “I don’t really mean to dump this on you, Bellamy. It seems like you’re always around when I’m at my worst.”

“Even your worst is pretty damn great, Clarke,” he found himself saying. 

“You’re just saying that,” she said, but he watched her pale cheeks flush pink as she spoke.

“I wouldn’t make things up, not when it comes to you. I hate seeing you cry but I wouldn’t make anything up just to make you feel better.”

“Bellamy… you don’t have to be this nice to me. Sometimes I really don’t get why you are.”

Bellamy reverted back to a phrase he vaguely remembered telling her years before. “You deserve it, Princess.”

Recognition flashed in her eyes and her facial expression changed drastically. Another bout of tears flooded her eyes, but for an entirely different reason. “You… remember that?” she asked.

“Of course I remember that.”

“I still have that frame hanging on my wall. Right above my bed. It’s coming with me to college. It’s the best gift anyone’s ever given me, Bellamy. And it meant even more coming from you.”

Bellamy smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Thank you.” Clarke’s voice is small, her tears beginning to affect it.

“What’re you thanking me for?”

“For being here,” she said. “For caring, even if I don’t really always deserve it. For being you, Bell. You’re my favorite person. And I think you always will be.”

“I’ll always care, Clarke. No matter what.” He stood from the couch only to pull her over to him and slot her between his arms where she always seemed to fit so perfectly. “You’re my favorite person too.”

Clarke let the hug continue for a long moment before pulling back slightly, leaving two splotches on his shirt from her tears (but he couldn’t be bothered to care about that, not really). Her blue eyes shone clear as she looked up at him. He met her eyes, the same smile still on his face from before.

“Bellamy… I have to tell you something. Don’t freak out, oh God, please, don’t freak out.”

“I won’t, I promise. What is it?”

She took a deep breath, and with their proximity he felt her exhale against his neck. “I’ve had a crush on you, I think since I was eight, Bell. I don’t think I knew that at the time, but since that day you tried to help me fix my scrape even though you’re so sensitive to blood… I’ve known you were someone I didn’t want to let go of. And that’s still true.”

Bellamy’s eyes widened at this confession. He felt immediate relief for more than one reason. “Thank God,” he breathed, unable to come up with any sort of coherent response. But Clarke’s dazzling grin made even those two words worth saying.

Later, he couldn’t recall if she had initiated the kiss or if he had. He only knew that it was the moment everything truly seemed to fall into place. Clarke Griffin deserved the world, and he was determined to give it to her.

 

 

_ +1. December 2017, Clarke and Bellamy’s apartment _

Bellamy woke on the morning of his 25th birthday to the smell of bacon wafting from the kitchen. Of course, knowing Clarke, it was not fresh, but simply put into the microwave and heated up, because he knew that she would burn it if she tried to cook the real thing (as she  _ had  _ done in the past). He smirked to himself before rolling over and getting out of bed.

He padded to the kitchen where his girlfriend stood in her pajamas, hair held up with a mechanical pencil and a blue Crayola marker. He watched as she pulled a plate from the microwave and waited for her to put it on the counter before saying, “Good morning, Princess.”

Still she startled, but an easy smile took over her face at the sight of him. “How’s it feel to be so old?” she questioned him teasingly.

“Still got out of bed with no issues, and I was greeted by a beautiful girl making me breakfast, so I’d say 25 isn’t so bad thus far.” He walked to her and swept away the hair that had fallen from its makeshift updo, dropping a kiss or two to her jawline. She shivered slightly at the touch, but nevertheless batted him away. “Eat while it’s hot. I slaved over the microwave for five whole minutes, you know.”

“Oh yes, of course. Can’t let all your hard work go to waste.”

Bellamy helped himself to a plate of food and sat at the table. The entire time he ate, Clarke watched him rather intently. She ate her own food more slowly than usual also, creating even more suspicion in Bellamy’s mind.

“Can I help you?” he asked eventually, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Clarke shrugged. “Just eat, silly,” she told him, before getting up and walking towards the fridge. “I bought orange juice yesterday, do you want some?” He nodded, and she obliged.

Just as they were finishing their meal, the doorbell rang. He had no idea who would be visiting at 9:30 on a Saturday morning, without at least letting him know beforehand. Clarke seemed to be expecting it, though, bouncing over to the door.

She opened the door for the guest, which Bellamy soon learned was none other than his sister. “Happy birthday, big brother!” she cried, running into the apartment, dropping her bags, and practically tackling him in a hug.

“O, what are you doing here? I didn’t think you were coming home until Tuesday!” He returned her hug with just as much vigor.

“Nah, I emailed my professor and he said he was fine if I took my final early, so I did it yesterday and decided to just drive home.” Octavia said this nonchalantly, as though her coming unannounced didn’t catch him so off guard. “And don’t worry, I cleared it with Clarke first. I wanted to surprise you!”

Bellamy had never been more thankful for the two women before him. The two people he loved most in the world, here on his birthday -- he couldn’t want anything more. “I love you guys,” is all he could think to say.

“Oh, and I got you something. Or, we did. Couldn’t go without any gifts on your birthday, after all.” Octavia handed him a small box, white and wrapped in a ribbon whose color was strangely similar to the blue of the eyes he’d become accustomed to waking up next to each morning.

He opened the box to reveal a small stone, painted with a white question mark, and an index card adorned with a phrase written in Clarke’s bubbly script. “What is this all about?” he questioned.

“Read it,” Octavia coaxed.

He did. It didn’t make any more sense, so he repeated his question, causing both Clarke and Octavia to roll their eyes at him. “It’s a clue, you dork!” the blonde said.

“A clue to what?” Bellamy asked, reading it over again.

“You’re so dumb sometimes, Bell. A clue to where you find the next stone, obviously.” Octavia replied, holding up the little question mark.

“It’s like a scavenger hunt,” Clarke told him with a smile.

Bellamy nodded sagely, understanding now. “I take it you want me to go now, then.”

Both women nodded vigorously. With that, he stood and led the way out of the apartment, Octavia’s bags still in the middle of the kitchen floor.

 

Two and a half hours later, Bellamy had received thirteen more stones of similar size to the first one, each painted with a different letter. The clues had taken him all across town, to various places that he had made memories with Clarke, Octavia, or both of them. His brain had been working, trying to figure out what the letters spelled out, but they wouldn’t let him see them for long enough to figure it out.

Regardless, though, with each new location and the story which came along with it, Bellamy grew more and more emotional. These were some of his favorite memories, with his favorite people, and it was a lot to take in in such a short time. The last few were the most taxing emotionally -- they’d ended up in the neighborhood that the three of them grew up in, had visited his mother’s grave, then Clarke’s father’s, and then immediately went to her family’s living room where she had received that shadowbox on her twelfth birthday -- the one that still hung in their bedroom to that day.

There was one last clue, one which Octavia explained to him that they required special permission to make happen. They walked along the street, ending up at the house he had practically raised Octavia in. The home was no longer theirs, of course, so he knew immediately what his sister had meant. But still she knocked. The thin, Asian woman who answered the door seemed very friendly, thankfully, and let the three of them in with no questions as soon as Octavia greeted her with a “Hi, Mrs. Green, it’s time for that thing I asked you about the other week.”

Being back in this house brought up far too many emotions, many of them unpleasant. It had Bellamy feeling mildly sick to his stomach. But still he walked down the hall to the bathroom, as the clue had told him to. He peered into the room and sure enough, on the edge of the bathtub -- the same bathtub, the same exact bathroom save for the color of the shower curtain -- sat the final stone, this one painted with a red letter W. 

He picked it up and planted himself where it had just been, as Clarke and Octavia crowded into the room with him. “I picked this as the last place because this was the place we were at the first moment when I started to have a crush on you,” his girlfriend told him, voice tender. “You scooped me up off the ground outside and carried me in here like a hero, even though you hate blood, and you tried as hard as you could to help me. I revered you, Bellamy. From that moment on, you’ve been my favorite person. Since I was eight years old, you’ve been it for me.”

If he hadn’t been feeling sick enough just being here, the reminder of how he felt in that moment made it worse. But the tenderness of the moment he currently found himself in made the sick feeling fade into the background. He found himself fighting the urge to cry -- something he didn’t think he’d really done in a long time.

“Do you want all the letters now?” Octavia asked. Unsure if he could speak, Bellamy simply nodded. She took the W from him and dumped the box of stones out onto the floor. Clarke captured Bellamy’s attention as Octavia arranged the stones into their proper order, straddling his lap and looking deep into his eyes.

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, Bellamy Blake,” she said. “I’ve known you since I was five years old and I’ve been practically in love with you since I was eight. It’s been fifteen years since I met you and there has never been a moment when I considered a life without you. You’re it for me, Bell. I want to spend all of my forevers with you.

“I want to wake up beside you every morning, and fall asleep beside you every night. I want you to always be there to tend to the stupid scrapes I somehow get, and to wipe away my tears like you have so many times. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side.”

Octavia stood, and Clarke moved so she knelt in front of him. He looked beyond her at the rocks lining the floor, and found himself unable to stop tears from springing to his eyes any longer once he read the phrase.  _ ‘Will you marry me?’  _ it spelled, with the red W starting the question off.

“So, what do you say, you big sap? Do you want to deal with me for the rest of your life?” Clarke asked, her own blue eyes shining.

A single sob escaped from between Bellamy’s lips as he spoke. “Of course I’ll marry you, Clarke. I can’t imagine wanting to do anything else, ever.”

And if Octavia still pretended to gag when they kissed, well, Bellamy couldn’t have expected anything less.

But he didn’t care. Clarke Griffin deserved the world, and thought he did too. Nothing else would ever matter to him.

**Author's Note:**

> yes, the thin asian woman was in fact hannah green, monty's mom, hahah. i added the cameo in because monty is my favorite lil bean and i felt a strong need for him to exist here, at least in concept!
> 
> anyway, thank you so much for reading! i really hope you liked this fic.  
> if you did, please feel free to leave a kudos and a comment! i always welcome feedback on my work :)
> 
> ~mikki <3


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